Only Human
by Apocalyptic-Wasp
Summary: How do you tell the most precious person in your life that you've betrayed them, trampled their trust into the ground and disgraced the foundation and life you've built around the love you hold so dear for them? Alice/Bella. ONE-SHOT.


**Only Human - ONE-SHOT  
>Rated M<br>Alice/Bella**

**A/N – So I had this lying around on my USB almost finished and decided what the fuck, may as well finish it now. This was written to overcome writer's block some time ago, don't ask me why I wrote in second person, that's just how it turned out. I was writing it off the top of my head :)**

**It's rated M for implied sex and whatever, so yeah...enjoy. Oh, and if you'd like to leave me your thoughts in a review, it's greatly appreciated. **

**All human. Grammatical errors are mine and mine alone.  
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**Disclaimer – Twilight belongs to SM.**

How do you tell the most precious person in your life that you've betrayed them, trampled their trust into the ground and disgraced the foundation and life you've built around the love you hold so dear for them?

How do you walk into the home you share with them knowing that another's lips have touched your own and caressed your body so intimately?

When you lay in bed with them afterwards the guilt seems to suffocate you, but still you never utter a word about how you've spat on the vows you took when you married. You wonder why you go out and do it again and again, night after night, knowing that the sadness in your love's gaze is because of you, because they know _exactly _what you've been up to when you claim to be 'working late'.

Still they stick around, and it's almost a silent agreement between you both. You slut yourself out because you can, because it's what your body craves beyond mere mortal control, because you're beautiful and you want to share your beauty with others. You stay with your love not because you are bound by your gorgeous child or your outrageous mortgage, but rather because no matter how unfaithful you are, you still love them with all your heart.

You watch from the sidelines as your wife, your kind, beautiful wife, laughs with the daughter she carried for _you_, the daughter you didn't even need to beg her for. Tammie looks everything like the goddess you married, but nothing like you. What more could you expect? You are not her father; you are a woman yourself after all.

People stare at you in the streets as you walk hand in hand with your wife and your daughter, all for various reasons; some because they don't agree, some because the three of you together are a sight to behold and some because they want _you_. You don't need to express your lustful desires verbally, but your loving wife isn't as oblivious to your own wandering eyes as you think she is.

At family gatherings your own parents show their disappointment in you by ignoring your presence entirely, and speaking only with their granddaughter and your wife who smiles as though nothing is wrong. It's her eyes, however, that scream everything she cannot say; her agony, her rejection, her confusion...her humiliation at the fact that your unfaithfulness is no secret.

You vow to never touch another woman again after that.

Your daughter's birthday arrives and you're late for her party because you're too busy fucking your secretary. Tammie cries and says she hates you for missing it, and your wife says nothing to counter her little tantrum; it's well deserved and she silently agrees with everything your daughter is screaming, just without words. Your family look at you with angry and disappointed glares once more, and you bow your head in shame as you realise you have yet again spat on your vows and humiliated your wife enough to leave the room, your family and yourself behind.

"I love you!" You cry later that night once your family have left and your daughter is asleep. You fall to your knees with tears in your eyes and beg for forgiveness, promise you'll never do it again, but this time she's had enough. She takes your pillow, shoves it into your open arms and tells you that there's a spare blanket in the closet, that the couch is yours until you wake up to yourself and realise what's really important in life; your family or your selfish desires. You're lucky she doesn't kick you out.

That's where you sleep for the next few weeks, until she finally relents and allows you back into the haven that is her arms. You make love that night, tenderly, and you realise that the tears in her eyes are not only from the pleasure you lay upon her, but the pain that she feels at knowing you have touched other women this way, the way you should only ever have touched her.

"I love you Alice, I love you so much." You whisper the words in her ear repeatedly as you worship her, and she only clutches you tighter as though you will disappear. You know that it will never be the case, and fear that it is _she_ who will disappear on _you_. With good reason.

You don't touch another woman after that eye opening night. You come home from work at knock off time and you brush off those who want to bed you, smiling as you tell them you're happily married. They scoff but you ignore it. You're proud and you're happy, so who cares what others think?

Your beautiful wife couldn't be happier. She laughs without strain, she kisses without fearing where your lips have been and she loves you in the way that you now realise only she has ever been able to do. You take your daughter and wife on picnics and out to dinner, you sit down and have a beer with your old man for the first time in years, and your mother actually strokes your cheek and kisses your forehead.

You feel whole, strong and truly happy for the first time in years. For Bella Swan that is rare.

Your daughter turns six and your there to celebrate with her. You stand with your wife in your arms, and you kiss the back of her neck every few seconds as though to reassure yourself that this is real, that everything is going so perfectly. You aren't a complete fuck up.

Nothing is ever perfect though.

You come home from work one day to find a truck parked in _your_ spot, and your confusion turns to pure devastation as you walk into the house and see _your_ wife, _your_ Alice, thrusting and naked under a man. Its then, in those 5 seconds you're there, that you realise this is how you've made her feel time and time again. You turn around and walk out, lighting a cigarette as you lean against the hood of your car with tears in your eyes.

Your heart is heavy and aching, and the smoke does nothing to calm you like it usually would. You wait until your wife and the man come to the door, you watch the scene through a red haze as his hand caresses her arm and she subtly brushes his touch off, repulsed at what she's just done, horrified at what she's just experienced with someone other than her wife.

It's only when he's at his truck that he realises your there, and his face goes from smug to horrified at the furious expression that mars your face. You are no longer a man and woman's fantasy, but the nightmare they wake from sweating and screaming during the night. You want to murder him in the most brutal way but you control yourself; being behind bars would solve nothing. You let him drive away, throwing your smoke to the side as you make for the house and the wife that stands by the doorway, shaking and uncertain.

The fury in your eyes she's never before witnessed, and when she thinks you're about to strike her down, you do something that neither of you expect. You cup her face in the gentlest manner possible, but the kiss that follows is anything but gentle. Teeth clash and tongues duel as hands clutch desperately at each other's bodies. You care nothing of the other man's taste in your wife's mouth. You care nothing of where you know her hands have been. You care only about now; her in your arms where she belongs.

Pulling away breathless, you refuse to open your eyes, heart clenching as your wife starts to sobs into your shoulder, arms wrapping around your prone frame to anchor you to the spot. You want to flee but you know you shouldn't because you've done this to her far too many times to count.

"I'm sorry, I love you!" You realise in that moment how hollow those words sound after what you've just witnessed. They are, however, filled with her regret and her desperation, her love and her fear, and you know that she truly means it, just like you had all those months ago.

Telling her that you deserve it, she just shakes her head and cries harder, saying you deserve nothing of the sort. She loves you and only you, she doesn't know why she did it. You know though. Your wife did it because she's human, because no matter how much she loves you and you her, she still desires something you cannot give her. It means nothing to her, but it kills you. Just like your own unfaithfulness had meant nothing to you, but had killed her.

"I love you." You kiss her forehead and that's that. What more is there to say? It's an apology for what you've put her through over the years, and it's forgiveness for what she has done to you just this _once_.

Things are tense for the next few weeks and sleeping arrangements are made; Alice in your bed, you on the couch. You work longer and harder, afraid to go home and find a repeat of the betrayal your wife laid upon you. You speak with your mother over the phone one night in your office and ask what you're supposed to do, how you're supposed to deal with the hurt you feel. She only replies, "You can't play with fire and not expect to get burnt in return." You know what she's saying and silently you agree, crying harder than before, safe in the sanctuary of your empty office to wallow in your sorrow.

Going home you are at least relieved to find no truck in your driveway, the house smells of roast chicken and your wife, sweet beautiful Alice, is sat at the dining room table with burnt out candles surrounding her and her eyes downcast. Your dinner is cold and you realise you missed dinner with your family. Your daughter is in bed and your wife has tears trekking steadily down her face, her mascara running.

She asks why you were late and when you don't answer right away, lost in your selfish pain, she cries out and demands to know why you've done it again. She says she's sorry for what happened with Jasper, the truck man, and she begs to know why you hate her enough to start fucking around again.

"I was on the phone to my mother, not fucking around!" You snap at her and immediately feel horrible. You can't blame her because you know she has every right to be so paranoid and judgemental, after all you've done it before, what's to say you won't do it again? "I'm sorry...but I promise I was only speaking to my mother." Your voice lowers and loses it bitterness.

Alice's head lowers and you can almost sense the regret she feels. You don't wait for her to apologise and instead you saunter toward her, holding out your hand in offering.

"Come to bed with me?" You don't think about what you're saying, all you know is that you wish to spend the night beside your wife, hold her and love her like you've done so many times before. Reassure her that she is the one for her. It doesn't even occur to you that this will be the first time you sleep in the same bed since her straying from her vows.

The moment she takes your hand you smile and lift her into your arms, bridal style. A giggle follows and your dimples become prominent as you smile wider. This is what marriage should be like; light, happy, loving.

You carry her effortlessly up the stairs and into your bedroom, lay her on the silken sheets almost reverently, and kiss her sweetly. It's almost 10 am the next morning when Tammie comes bounding into the room, giggling tiredly as she snuggles atop the blankets between the both of you, your naked flesh hidden from her innocent eyes.

With one arm around your wife and the other around your daughter, a feeling of pure contentment washes through you. This is what's important in life and sure, nothing is perfect and people make mistakes but knowing that you have your families love gives you the determination to not fuck it up.

You watch with a smile on your face as your wife encourages your little girl to hop up and make her way downstairs, basking in the giggle that bursts forth from Alice as you pin her to the bed the moment your door closes behind Tammie. Bathing her face in kisses, you can't help but grin the entire time, whispering how much you love her and how beautiful she is in a soothing mantra. She only just manages to swat you away and crawl from bed with a laugh, throwing on a robe to follow your daughter down the stairs.

A shower later and your following the delicious scent of sizzling bacon into the kitchen where Alice is standing in front of the stove, dressed in the robe you bought for her on mother's day from both you and your daughter, cooking.

"Morning ladies," You swoop in and lift your daughter up onto the counter, kissing her forehead softly before doing the same to your wife. You grin and nip her ear, "Delicious." And she giggles with the knowledge that you aren't talking about the food she's cooking.

Tammie starts talking to you about an upcoming play she's going to be part of for school, and you nod and smile as she tells you about the role she'll be playing. You're genuinely excited for her and you can't help but lean down and kiss each of her cheeks repeatedly. She giggles, you giggle and your wife giggles but for entirely different reasons.

"I burnt the bacon!" Nobody's perfect, you're only human. Humans make mistakes and sometimes, just sometimes you're given the chance to rectify that mistake, whether it's as serious as infidelity or as minor as burning the bacon on a Sunday morning at breakfast with your family. You grin and lean over to look at the offending piece of meat, laughing as Alice flips the blackened crisp dejectedly. _That _is something that cannot be rectified, however.


End file.
